The Best Laid Plans
by ANGSWIN
Summary: Part 2 of my "Sherlock's Rose" series...In Pete's World, do Rose Tyler and Sherlock Holmes have what it takes to start a relationship or should they just take the easy way out and forget about each other?...*Roselock*...This story is also compatible with Parts 1 & 2 of my "Torchwood Rose" series, (but NOT Part 3!).


**The Best Laid Plans**

 **5 days after the events in "A Night Full of Surprises"…**

Sherlock did not have a case, so he spent most of the week brooding. He sat in his armchair, deep in thought, and occasionally he threw something across the room – just to relieve a little tension. He thought about the night at the morgue, Rose, his forgotten brain, Molly, the Slitheen, Rose, Torchwood, memory wipes, Rose…wait! What was he doing? He had just witnessed irrefutable proof that there was extraterrestrial life in the universe, a secret organization here in London that dealt with it, and that a good friend (who had once helped him fake his own death!) knew about it but had kept the information from him. Yet, despite all of this, for some reason, his thoughts kept returning to one Rose Tyler. The thought of that wide tongue-touched smile that had graced her lips so many times that night almost made his own lips twitch up in response. He looked over at the side table where he had placed her simple white business card – just her name and phone number in black ink – nothing else. That made sense, at least. She couldn't very well advertise that she was Rose Tyler: Alien Expert Extraordinaire or even Rose Tyler: Defender of the Earth (as she had called herself). However, on the back of the card, in pink marker, she had drawn a smiley face with its tongue sticking out. Sherlock thought that the card perfectly summed up his first impression of her - extremely professional, but also overflowing with good humor and excitement.

Now he had two problems, though. The first one was that she _interested_ him. He wanted to know all about her. He didn't understand it, though, because he wasn't interested in other people – ever – at least not until now. It made him uncomfortable. The other problem was that he didn't know what to do about it. That is what made him brood. Should he completely ignore the situation in hopes that it would just go away? Should he contact her, question her, satisfy his curiosity, and then get back to his normal life? Or should he try to _interest_ her, too? Should he invite her to go out with him, wine her, dine her, woo her – those kinds of things. He shook his head. That didn't sound like him at all. Therefore, his first plan was probably the best one. Yes, he nodded to himself. He would go with the "ignore it" scenario. He would act just like that encounter never happened – except for the part about the existence of aliens, of course. He should probably remember that. It might be important… but not Rose Tyler. No, she was definitely not going to be important to him. To prove the point to himself, he picked up the business card and threw it in the small waste bin by the desk.

Rose brooded at her desk. It had been such a boring week since that memorable night in the morgue when she had met Sherlock Holmes. There had been no alien invasions, no crash landings, no negotiations to handle, and no relocations to organize. In fact, there had been nothing at all to distract her from thinking about the gorgeous moody genius that she had just met. It had been so long since she had met someone who had caught her attention and interested her in that way. Of course, it would have to be someone like him. She sighed just thinking about it. Even though they had carefully avoided talking about a particular detective all week, Molly had previously told her enough about him to know that he would be considered "emotionally unavailable." Oh, she knew that type, for sure! How ironic was it that after almost five years in this universe, she…Rose shook her head not wanting to even complete that thought. Why did this have to be so complicated? Could she really go through all of this again? No! For the sake of her sanity, she was just going to let this go. She knew instinctively that he wouldn't call her and he wouldn't seek her out – and she didn't even have his number. Therefore, she would make it easier on them both and just pretend that the meeting had never happened. If they ever crossed paths again, it would be as distant acquaintances. Yes, that was probably for the best. She nodded to herself, pleased to have come to a decision. Then, to prove that she was done thinking about Sherlock, she actually did some paperwork instead.

 **Early the next morning…**  
Sherlock took the business card out of the trash.

Rose texted Molly and casually asked for, and received, Sherlock's mobile number.

 **The day after that…**  
Sherlock called the number on the card and reached a business voicemail account. He hung up without leaving a message. He then threw his phone across the room.

 **One more day after that…** Sherlock heard his phone make the distinct "beep beep" that indicated he had a message on his mobile. He pulled it out and looked at it idly when he didn't recognize the number. Then he suddenly tensed, and then relaxed again, and smirked as he read the message – and then answered it.

I could murder some chips right now! Since _murder_ is right up _your_ alley, maybe you could join me?  
~Rose

I would be honored, Miss Tyler. You know, I was once told that _weird_ was right up _your_ alley!  
-SH

I'm sure that I don't know what you are talking about! ;) Where and when?  
~Rose

My flat - 221B Baker St – There is a shop with decent fish and chips right around the corner.  
Shall we meet in an hour, Miss Tyler?  
-SH

That sounds perfect, Sherlock, and please call me Rose! :)  
~Rose

Sherlock pocketed his phone and his lips twisted up in a small smile. He was going to lunch with Rose! Then the thought struck him, how did she get his number anyway? Not that he really cared, he thought, and he looked around the room. If Rose was going to see his flat, maybe he should pick up some of the things that he had been throwing around lately…

Rose smiled at her phone and then went to get ready. She had a lunch date!

 **Fifty-five minutes later…**  
Rose knocked on the door to 221B Baker Street, but there was no response. She knocked again – still nothing. "Sherlock?" she called out, but he didn't answer. She tried the knob and the door opened freely. She let herself in, locked the door behind her (This was London after all!), and looked around. She knew from John's blog that the Mrs. Hudson, the landlady, lived in the downstairs flat. Therefore, she climbed the stairs to the upstairs one. However, before she had even knocked on the door, a familiar voice from the other side called out, "Come in, Rose Tyler." She jumped a little from the unexpected sound, but pushed open the door to see Sherlock calmly sitting in an armchair facing her and obviously waiting.

"You did that on purpose, you git!" she said pleasantly. While she stood there trying to decide whether to be irritated or amused, his lips twisted up in a wry smile and he observed her. She looked very different today than the last time they had met, still attractive, but different.

Clothing - No black field uniform - no visible weapon – off duty  
Casual and colorful - Blue leather jacket, bright pink t-shirt, jeans, and trainers that matched both her jacket and shirt (ready to run?)  
Hair - loose in golden waves (as soft as it looks?)  
Eyes - deep and sparkling in irritation _and_ amusement (at him?)  
Stance - relaxed and patient (waiting for him?)

He blinked at these last observations and gave a little uncertain smile when he realized that she knew he was assessing her again – and she let him do it anyway! She had done the same thing at the morgue. Why was she so tolerant of that? Most people hated it. Rose Tyler certainly wasn't "most people," though! Therefore, he switched tactics trying to throw her off, "What do you mean? What did I do on purpose?" he asked in response to her earlier statement.

Two can play that game, thought Rose. "Well, in order to look impressive, you purposely left the front door unlocked and ignored my knock, knowing that I would let myself in. Then, even though technically I had an _appointment_ to be here, you pretended to be all omniscient by knowing who was at your door before you actually saw me - even though you couldn't fail to hear me come up the stairs because, not only are they uncarpeted, but three of them squeak horrifically. Therefore, you knew I was there all along!"

He shook his head, "I am impressive!" he mumbled to himself even though she was clearly the impressive one here - since she had cleverly been observant enough to see right through his ruse. Rose, however, just laughed and decided to let him off of the hook by changing the subject.

"Interesting place that you have here," she remarked as she walked into the room and casually plopped down on the sofa. "Are those bullet holes?" she asked - pointing to the wall. She sounded curious, but not shocked.

"Um, yes, I was bored." He shrugged and wondered why he felt…uneasy… at the sight of her sprawled on his sofa. He felt himself start to ramble a bit to cover his discomfort. "I don't have a flat mate anymore. He recently got married and is still on his honeymoon. Therefore, sometimes, it gets too…quiet…here."

"Oh, would that former flat mate be John Watson?" she asked interestedly and he just nodded. "I know what you mean – about the quiet. I live alone, too." He nodded again as he filed away this information for later. Then she amazed him again when she leaned forward and said in a conspiratorial whisper, "Sometimes I throw things!" and then winked.

Sherlock was a bit startled at the coincidence, so he changed the subject. "How did you get my number?" He asked suddenly, and a little rudely, since his earlier question had occurred to him again.

"I asked Molly," she said simply and shrugged casually as if it wasn't important while she continued to look around the room. His brow furrowed in confusion when he thought about what she had said. She actually asked someone for his number! She wanted to talk to him and… why? Could she possibly find him as interesting as he found her? Did she want to spend time with him – on purpose? He spared a little smile at that thought and remembered that she had also asked him out for lunch! Oh, that was right…they were supposed to be going for lunch.

He jumped up and offered her his arm. "Well, then, Miss Tyler – _Rose_ ," he corrected. "I believe that you mentioned that you could murder some chips - and I never could resist an interesting murder." She laughed at his joke, delighted to find out that he could be as witty as he was attractive and intelligent. What a combination! This could get _interesting_ , she thought, as she took the proffered arm. They left the flat together and smiling.

 **Lunch...**  
They walked quickly to the chippie. Rose was still holding on to his arm and their hips occasionally bumped as they walked. Sherlock was a bit distracted by this physical proximity and he kept looking over at her still surprised to find himself in this situation – going out to lunch with an attractive and intelligent woman. Rose could feel him looking at her and smiled back in return. She realized that this was not a usual occurrence for him and she was determined to put him at ease. If he didn't feel like talking, then she wouldn't force him to – yet! Right now, she was just enjoying being with him.

Once they got there and ordered their food, Sherlock, to his own surprise, insisted on paying for it. Rose wanted to argue, though, that she should do it since she had invited him – not the other way around. He informed her that he was well known for being stubborn and that she should give in because he could spend the rest of the afternoon arguing about it. Therefore, she just laughed and conceded him the victory. They grabbed their food and went to sit down. They both scanned the room and soon realized that they were heading for the same table: the only one in the entire chippie where both seats on opposite sides of the table were against the wall and they could both observe the entire restaurant and not have to worry about what was happening behind their backs. This made them both think about the similarities of their lifestyles and how they were both always on the lookout for danger. Their chosen table was small, however, and when they sat down, their knees banged into each other. Therefore, they both turned slightly and angled their long legs under the table in opposite directions.

"Blimey," said Rose laughing and blushing a little, "it's like being an awkward teenager on a first date again." A date? Was that what this was? Sherlock wondered. He guessed that, technically, it could be considered a lunch date. She had asked him and he had paid for her. Bloody hell! They were on a _date_!

Instead of addressing that, however, he said quite seriously, "I can't imagine that you were ever an awkward teenager." He really couldn't. She was too pretty and confident to ever be considered _awkward_.

"You'd be surprised, then," she answered – also seriously. "I've had to grow up a lot since I was nineteen." He would have liked to pursue this, but she obviously wanted to change the subject. Therefore, when she asked him to tell her about some of his more interesting cases, he obliged. Since she had mentioned that she read John's blog, he told her about some of his earlier cases that had never been documented. He told her about pet monkeys in air ducts, murder by bee swarm, tunnels through a graveyard, and ghosts that turned out to be cows! Rose laughed so hard at that last one that her sides started to hurt. He couldn't help but smile at the pure musical joy of that sound. Rose was an attentive listener and as he talked, Sherlock became less quiet and withdrawn, and more and more animated. He also started to use his hands a lot. Rose thought that he was quite entertaining when he wanted to be, and for some reason, she found herself staring at his long slender fingers. As he finished his last story about bats in the belfry (literally), he laid his hands on the table. Rose reached over and gently grasped the one closest to her and enveloped it with her own. He stopped, looked at their hands, gulped, and looked at her, confused, for a moment. Rose could _feel_ his tension through the contact (she was a trained empath, after all) and stroked the back of his hand with her thumb. He decided that he liked it and he tightened the grip – rather than letting it go. Then, he asked her to tell some stories about her area of expertise.

Rose was a bit surprised by both gestures, both the continued hand holding and the interest in her stories. However, since he asked, she would certainly oblige. First, she took a look around her. Most of the lunch customers had left and the place was almost empty. There was nobody right around them to hear. Therefore, still holding his hand (where she could _feel_ his interest – whether in her or her stories, she didn't know yet), she launched into a story about her friends, the Tirlugians, who were both telepathic and empathic, and how they didn't even have a spoken language until they made first contact and were taught Galactic Standard (which was the most widely spoken language in the universe). She told him about the Nestene Consciousness that could animate and control plastic and who happened to be the first hostile alien species that she had ever encountered. (She looked a bit sad at that, and didn't explain the details of that meeting, so Sherlock didn't push for it.) She told him about the wraith-like Gelth who could only live in the bodies of the dead, the troublesome four-armed Tripurlians, and the cute and furry Fummels that bounced around rather than walked.

By the time she had finished with these stories, Sherlock had finished his meal, one-handed, and was looking at her with something like awe. He just couldn't believe that there was anyone who led a life as crazy as, or even crazier than, he did! However, here she was, sitting across from him right now, holding his hand, and smiling. Well, it was obvious that his plan to try and forget that they had ever met certainly wasn't going to work now! In fact, as time went on, she only became _more_ interesting to him – and if he was not mistaken (and he very rarely was) she even felt the same way about him!

After lunch, they decided to walk back to Sherlock's, and Rose would take a cab from there. During their walk, Rose made sure that she kept his hand in hers and he very willingly let her. They both thought that it felt very natural and comfortable – as if their hands were made to fit together. Then, on the way back to the flat, they started talking about fighting styles. Rose was curious about Sherlock. She knew that he was constantly in dangerous situations and must know how to defend himself. He may be slim, but he was muscular (she could feel that while holding onto his arm earlier), and he moved with the fluidity of a skilled fighter. Therefore, she wondered what style he preferred. He was extremely surprised when she brought it up because nobody had ever asked him that before – especially not a beautiful woman! However, it was a fascinating topic and he couldn't resist. He explained that his favorite was the practically obsolete Bartitsu and then explained some of it unique characteristics. Rose was unfamiliar with it until he told her that it was derived from jujutsu and judo. She nodded understandingly and mentioned that she was also familiar with those arts.

Sherlock also knew that Rose was obviously a trained fighter and could see it in the way she held herself and moved. When he asked her what her favorite style was, she gave a little bittersweet smile and told him that an old non-human friend, whom she had once traveled with, had taught her quite a bit of Venusian aikido and that she was able to complete that training after joining Torchwood. She stopped walking and explained some of the moves to him. He thought they sounded fascinating - almost as fascinating as the woman whose eyes lit up when talking about aliens and martial arts. Then she surprised him even further.

"I love to work out with a worthy opponent." She looked over at him and grinned. "Maybe we should spar sometime. I could teach you some Venusian Aikido and you could teach me some Bartitsu. I would love to see your moves!"

He thought about having such close physical contact with Rose, both of them down on the mat, touching, sweating, and panting with exertion. He was completely taken by surprise by the unexpected heat that came out of nowhere and shot through him at that thought. His trousers became tight and his eyes darkened. Then, without even thinking about it, he stepped closer to her, looked into her eyes, and said quite seriously in a low tone, "Rose Tyler, I would love to show you my moves."

She was still holding his hand and felt the strong wave of want go through him. It was so powerful that she also unconsciously picked up a quick flash of the picture in his head of the two of them on the sparring mat together. She gasped! She wasn't expecting that! Then she realized that his closeness, his words, and his tone had the same effect on her, too! She felt an unexpected heat start to pool in her groin and she shivered a little as she looked in his eyes. "Oh," she whispered and could say nothing else for a moment. They continued to look at each other until a car horn across the street broke the spell and made them realize that they were back at Sherlock's flat and had been standing there for awhile.

"Do you…," he started to say at the same time she said, "Well I guess I should…"  
They both smiled tentatively – still a bit unsure about whatever powerful thing that had just passed between them.

Rose was the first to move. She let go of his hand, walked over, and flagged down a passing cab. She asked the cabbie to give her a minute and turned back to Sherlock who tried not to show how disappointed he was that she was leaving so soon and at how empty his hand now felt. She sensed it, though, and leaned forward to stroke his cheek. "Thanks for lunch, Sherlock," she said quietly. "I really enjoyed it. You have my number and now it's your turn to call or text me, yeah?" Then, to the surprise of them both, she moved a little closer and brushed a quick kiss across his lips. She spun away and hopped in the cab while he stood there, stunned. She gave a little wave as the cab drove off and then she was gone.

 **Afterwards...**

Sherlock watched the cab drive away, and then turned back towards his flat. Thank goodness that Mrs. Hudson was still out. He didn't feel like talking right now. He just wanted to go upstairs and examine the events of the day – to start unraveling a little more of the mystery of that woman – and how he felt about her. Wasn't it just a couple of days ago that he had decided to forget about her? What had he been thinking? She was quite possibly the most interesting woman he had ever met, and the more he saw of her, the more he liked her. Not even The Woman had fascinated him that way that Rose Tyler did. They had gone on a date, she found his stories interesting, she was well versed in martial arts, and she wanted to see his _moves_! _That_ had been an interesting turn of events - especially when he realized that he wanted her, too! He had not had _that_ kind of reaction to anyone in a long time, but contrary to what seemed to be popular opinion, he wasn't a virgin. He just didn't care to have a physical relationship with anyone that he couldn't have an intellectual one with, as well. Therefore, that practically ruled out having a relationship with anyone, ever.

However, he now wondered if he could manage one with Rose. Besides seeming tolerant of his usually off-putting idiosyncrasies, she was amazingly interesting, and also extremely intelligent. The physical attraction was there, as well. He had felt a heated connection with her and she had kissed him! How did that happen? He felt the need to analyze the situation further before coming to any conclusions, however. Therefore, he shook his head to clear it and headed up the stairs. Before he could turn the knob, though, his phone beeped with a message. Forgetting for a moment about the fact that Rose had said that it was his turn to call next, he quickly pulled it out to check - not quite daring to hope that it was her. Unfortunately, it wasn't!

Who is she?  
-M

Sherlock sighed and shoved the phone back in his pocket. Of course, his brother would have known that Sherlock had gone to lunch with a woman. He probably knew that they had held hands and kissed, too. He did keep a pretty close eye on him, after all. However, Mycroft was just going to have to wait. Sherlock wasn't going to let him ruin what had been a very pleasant afternoon and he wasn't ready to talk about Rose with anyone, yet.

Rose sighed and sunk down into the seat of the cab after she waved at Sherlock. "Chicken!" she whispered to herself. She could have stayed with him, gone back to the flat, had tea… but their afternoon had taken such a surprising turn. She shouldn't be able to pick up on his emotions or see any of his thoughts with just a casual touch – unless she was focused and purposely trying – and, yet, somehow she had! She didn't expect to feel such a _connection_ with him – especially not such a heated one! Therefore, she didn't feel like it would have been safe for her to stay, not today. Sherlock was fascinating and the more she saw of him, the more she liked him. She didn't want to rush into anything, though, – especially with him. There was still so much uncertainty there. She still wasn't positive that Sherlock was the kind of man that could get involved, at all, with anybody. She also knew that she could never have a relationship with someone who didn't know her past – all of it. Sherlock had been pretty accepting about the idea of alien life, but only because he could see the evidence in front of his eyes. There had been something tangible there - as proof. He was a man who lived his life by logic. He had to have evidence to prove his theories.

However, she would not be able to provide him with any proof whatsoever that she had lived with, traveled with, and loved an ancient alien – all in a parallel universe. She was sure that he was never going to be able to accept that, and therefore, he wouldn't be able to accept her. At best, he would think that she was a lunatic. At worst…well, she didn't want to think about what the worst case scenario would be… and she sighed again. Maybe she should have stuck with pretending that they had never met. It certainly would have been easier! Instead, she had kissed him. What had she been thinking? It had just been a small one, but it was still a kiss! It had been such a nice afternoon, though, the first date that she had in years that she had actually enjoyed, and the kiss just felt like the right thing to do. When it came down to it, they were obviously attracted to each other, and they had a lot in common. Would it be enough, though? She wished she knew.


End file.
